Genesis
by Acteon Carolsfeld
Summary: Tragedy stemmed from a Love lost to failure. Primus was god, not immune.


**IMPORTANT:** This story is based on the "Insatiable" AU, as told from the perspective of Vos, all all-flier, independent city-state ruled by absolute monarchy, who has always been a Seeker.

Recommended Listening: www. youtube-dot-com-slash watch?v=J0RKpmjjpLQ

("Pruitt Igoe and Prophecies" by Philip Glass; 7:30 and onward is especially breathtaking)

* * *

In the beginning, there was Nothing.

Nothing did not exist. Nothing simply was.

Until everything changed.

In an instance, from Nothing, birthed Existence.

Existence was an affection called Love.

Love was beautiful, but it was unstable, violent.

Unable to exist in its rawest form, Love split into two, and created Light and Darkness.

Light was warm, generous, forgiving, and kind. Light designated itself as Primus.

Darkness was cold, selfish, merciless, and cruel. Darkness designated itself as Unicron.

Primus and Unicron came into existence. Together, they were balanced.

Perfect.

* * *

Unicron made a black, endless canvas.

He named it the Universe.

The Universe was a vast, seamless ocean of black and silence. It was lonely, which was why, upon the canvas, Primus painted stars.

In each star, Primus embedded a sliver of his own being, so that the small, flickering brightness would never fade and die.

Unicron did not understand why Primus sacrificed a part of himself for such trivialities, but he left Primus be. Primus was a creator. As long as Primus created for him, Unicron was satisfied.

Primus created more.

Unicron watched.

Primus created so many little trinkets of little purpose in the infinite blackness of the Universe that the Universe was eventually filled to the brim by unimaginable beauty.

Meanwhile, Unicron watched, though he did not understand.

He did not understand that, eventually, the Universe would not be enough.

* * *

Primus became thoughtful. Primus began to wonder.

Primus was saddened that no matter how many stars he painted, the darkness of the Universe continued to bleed through.

Primus needed stars capable of creating more stars, so he made sparks.

Unicron watched Primus make the tiny speckles of light, even tinier than the suns. He did not understand the purpose behind the creation of such fragile things. However, he did not ask.

As long as Primus created for him, Unicron was satisfied.

Primus harbored the tiny sparks in a nursery of star clouds. He always hung by, reluctant to leave in fear that the sparks would not survive without his constant vigilance. Unicron hovered in the vicinity, though never too close.

He did not understand.

Primus had never stayed behind to nurture the stars he had made. However, Unicron did not ask.

As long as Primus created for him, Unicron was satisfied.

Primus stayed with the sparks, putting more care and precision into their growth than any previous creations. He enveloped them with his being, and poured his thoughts into their essence.

Unicron stayed with Primus, though he did not understand. However, he did not ask.

He did not ask until the brightness of the sparks was starting to sting.

Upon the first Question, Primus regarded him for the first time since the creation of the sparks. He thought for a brief moment, and responded with a cryptic answer, one even more confusing than the little, delicate, shiny orbs he was growing progressively fonder of.

Primus called them "Life", and it was a concept Unicron can never understand.

Unicron watched Primus embrace his frail, miniscule creations, and felt the first affection aside from Love since the birth of Existence.

Jealousy.

The little sparks slowly gained awareness. They were no longer decoration by which Primus wished to quell the overbearing solace of the Universe with. They began to speak to Primus, murmuring in voices that Unicron could not hear. Before long, they learned to think, to feel.

The little sparks became sentient.

Primus was overjoyed. His light shone so brightly that all darkness in the vast, seamless ocean of silence disappeared. Without consultation with his counterpart, Primus made small bodies mirroring his own, and carefully placed the sparks within the shells. The shells became alive, and Primus called them his Children.

His Children were much more curious and naive than their creator. Now with shells to protect their weak, flimsy sparks, they became bold. No longer restricted to the protective cocoon of star clouds, they ventured out into the depths of the Universe. Many of them died, diminishing from existence as they strayed too far into the darkness, venturing too close to the stars.

Unicron predicted their demise, but he only watched.

Primus eventually realized his mistake. His Children were too weak to battle the waves of the vast, seamless ocean, which pushed and lulled by Unicron's command.

Primus made a home for his Children. It was a small planet at the center of the Universe, one just large enough to be comfortable. His Children were pleased with their planet. It grounded them, so they would not become lost in the deep stretches of black space.

Primus's Children were happy, and safe. They began to communicate with each other, muttering in a diminutive version of the language shared by Primus and his counterpart. They began to create, building tiny shelters for their tiny forms. They began to utilize the unique shells Primus had created for them to their full potential. For a small crowd of tiny beings, they were versatile and clever, and their creator was proud.

Unicron did not care. All he knew was that, with his Children appeased and content, Primus would return to him.

Primus almost did, until one of his Children gazed up at the endless canvas of black he called a sky, and wondered what it would feel like to fly.

The hunger was infectious. Before long, all of Primus's Children wished for the same thing. Primus was torn. He indulged his Children in everything they wanted, but he was worried. The Universe was hostile to his Children. They would not survive its overwhelming loneliness, unless…

Without consultation with Unicron, Primus found a solution.

He gave his Children wings.

"Seekers", Primus designated them, and they were his proudest.

They were beautiful. That was the only one of Primus's sentiments that Unicron shared, because they were an embodiment of Primus in a small, delicate shell.

Primus _adored_ them.

He doted on them, yielding to their pleas and demands with great ease. With unwavering diligence, he listened to their prayers, and answered all. He gave them everything he believed wonderful, completely unconditional with his various gifts.

However, Primus no longer gave Unicron anything of value, and the balance began to shift.

Hatred was not an affection, but a poison. It festered in the darkest depth of Unicron's being, and it made him strong. One by one, the stars on the canvas began to die, flickering out of existence as the Universe engulfed them. The darkness and silence of the vast, seamless ocean returned, gorging on the beauty that embellished it. Slivers of Primus disappeared, lost to the waves tainting his counterpart's Love.

Primus became weak.

Primus became so weak that he could only watch as Unicron slaughtered his Children.

For the first time since Existence, Primus cried.

His weeping wrenched his wrathful counterpart out of the overwhelming abyss of hatred. Unicron hesitated, and the small planet was spared. However, only thirteen Seekers were left alive, terrified and shivering on the shattered remains of their home.

Unicron did not know guilt. He was only satisfied that Primus had learnt his lesson.

Unicron left the small planet, and Primus went along with him, leaving behind his Children. They returned to travelling the Universe, normality that both of them knew well and should have enjoyed.

However, Primus no longer created stars.

Time had not yet existed. Unicron led, and Primus followed. When they returned to the small planet, the Seekers had built a massive machine, and challenged Unicron for dominion of the Universe.

Primus begged his Children.

"You are a part of me, and I am His Half. How can you love me, yet despise Him, an extension of my very being?"

Primus begged his enraged counterpart.

"We are one and inseparable. How can you love me, yet despise them, ones who hold my essence within their shells?"

Neither parties heard his pleas, and thus began the First War.

Primus could only watch, horrified, as Unicron tore through the defenses of the Seekers. Primus could only watch, crying out in pain and distress, as the last few, too few, of his Children were crushed one by one.

The Seekers were clever. The Seekers were fast. The Seekers were agile.

They had mastered their wings, and fought with viciousness that Primus did not have in his being. However, those attributes were not enough.

As the last of his Children let out a scream of agony, wings shredded by a hard fall, Primus could no longer watch.

Primus had to make a choice.

A fracture occurred within his being then, and the balance was lost.

Unicron felt the fracture, and, along with it, experienced the most excruciating shock he had ever felt.

Primus was dying.

Immediately, Unicron ceased his attack. He pulled away from the planet he'd almost destroyed, and looked down at the last of Primus's Children.

The Seeker was on the brink of death, but his spark still burned bright.

Unicron knew what he had to do to preserve what little was left of Primus's fading being.

In silence, Unicron turned away.

Primus called after him, but he paid his weakening counterpart no mind.

Soundlessly, he retreated into the darkness of his Universe, leaving behind his Love. He blended into the black depths of his ocean, and disappeared, completely, from Primus.

Primus's voice gained a desperate, agonizing wail, but Unicron did not turn back. He sealed his being into a dormant form, and closed off the acute connections he had with his counterpart.

He never noticed how beautiful Primus's stars were until they were the only glimmers of Light he had.

* * *

Primus suffered extensively from the separation. He wept, and wept, but he could not remain blind to the needs of the last of his Children. He healed the Seeker, and asked the tiny being for a prayer.

The Seeker wished for a home, one that was close to his creator, as well as companions who could stay with him, live, forever, on that home. Primus nodded, and said that he would comply.

Primus began to change. His form shifted, morphing until the Seeker could no longer tell apart the familiar, warm features of his creator from the massive, metallic planet that was slowly beginning to take shape.

The Seeker panicked at the thought of never seeing his creator again. The loneliness was terrifying, and he cried out in alarm and sorrow.

Primus paused, but stayed silent. A flicker of light appeared before the Seeker, and, slowly, it began to take form.

It transformed into a beautiful, glowing artifact.

The Seeker inherently knew that it would keep his creator close to his spark.

Primus returned to his task of answering the last wish of his Child. He became the home of his creation, and made, for him, many companions to deflect the loneliness of the Universe. Primus was weak, so the companions were not as perfect as the Seeker was. Most of them did not have wings, and the ones who did lacked the finesse that the last of his First naturally carried. However, they had good sparks. Primus was certain his Child was going to be happy.

* * *

Primus was losing consciousness.

His strength was seeping away.

He was dying, but if his Children prospered, his legacy would carry on. The tiny speckles of Light would offer Unicron a sliver of reassurance and comfort. The balance was lost, but Existence was not compromised.

…Unicron was venturing deeper into the endless ocean. Primus could feel him, though the feeling was growing fainter and fainter.

For the first time, Primus felt cold.

On his surface, his Children were hailing him as _god_.

They did not know that this would mark the first time he had failed them.

* * *

**Note:** And by failure, Primus meant pain and suffering for his Children. Without his intervention, his vigilance to their needs and desires, his Children were vulnerable to dissatisfaction and loss, disappointment and regret. As time went on, his Children's faith in him faded, until his existence, as with that of his counterpart's, became nothing more than a tale passed on from generation to generation for no purpose other than that of a berth-side story. Primus had grown too weak, so he slept. He did not know that the stars he'd created gave life to new species as well, on distant planets, though they were not as beautiful, nor as resilient as those he'd built based on his own image.

Or something like that, haha!

This story has been sitting in my folder for a very long time. I actually had quite a lot to say about it, but I…can't seem to recall what those were at the moment. In all, I really hope you enjoyed reading this. If you could, please leave me a few words to tell me what you think.

A review would be lovely. :)


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